


Where's My Feathered Boa?

by mysticsushi



Series: Feathered Boa series [1]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: M/M, POV Oz, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Season/Series 04, trying to have plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-09
Updated: 2014-06-09
Packaged: 2018-02-03 23:26:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1759591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mysticsushi/pseuds/mysticsushi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oz says one last good-bye to Sunnydale, and has an unexpected encounter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where's My Feathered Boa?

Oz watches Willow climb out of his van and walk away. While every logical part of him says it is the right thing, every other part of him is breaking apart. It hurts like hell that he had to let her go - especially into the arms of someone else.

As he puts the van in gear and drives away, he's at a loss for what to do. He knows that he should get out of town. It wasn't everyday an entire secret branch of the military was after him. The smart thing is to get the hell out of dodge before they captured him again.

Yet Oz knows that when he drives past the "Now Leaving Sunnydale" sign, it will be for the last time. There will be no reason to return, not ever. He doesn't know if he can deal with that just yet. Sunnydale - Willow - has been his life for too long. Now that he's said good-bye to her, he needs to say good-bye to it.

Deciding his van is safer than walking alone in a town crawling with evil beings and crazed commandos, Oz drives past all the official Sunnydale landmarks: the charred ruins of the high school, the Espresso Pump, the Magic Shop, the Bronze, and the warehouse district. He pulls to a stop at the entrance to one of the many cemeteries, and after a moment of contemplation gets out of the van.

The ground crunches slightly under his shoes as he walks through the silent graveyard. There is no real reason to walk between the headstones, but his instincts tell him to and who is he to go against the flow?

The air is still and contains the sickeningly sweet smell of decaying flowers. The moon looks down upon him, as a parent might look down upon a child. He doesn't know if he likes that or not.

After a few minutes he comes to a stop and hops up onto one of the headstones. Oz then absorbs the atmosphere around him, listens to the dormant sounds of the dead, and remembers. Because like the town, after he leaves there will be no going back to a cemetery.

"Well, well. Does the dog have a taste for the leash?"

With his eyes still closed, Oz exhales. he thinks.

"Go away, Spike," he says flatly.

A slight chuckle vibrates in his ears, followed by the sound of footsteps. "Nothin' I'd like more, mate. Except I don't want to save your flea-bitten hide again."

"Then don't."

A ghost of a smile when Spike makes an impatient sound, because Oz knows the vampire hates being brushed off.

"And risk being staked by the Slayer and her groupies? I don't think so."

That makes the werewolf open his eyes and look at his unwanted companion. "Why did you help her? I seem to remember death plots and evil plans galore."

"So they didn't tell you?" Spike snorts, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it. "I've been house trained."

Even Oz can't follow that. "Huh?"

"Those military blokes put a chip in my head that keeps me from hurtin' or killin' humans. That makes me the Slayer's lapdog until I get the bloody thing out." 

"That's gotta hurt," Oz says sympathetically.

"You have no idea."

The two stay like that for a while, Oz sitting on the tombstone while Spike leans against it, smoking his cigarette. Eventually, however, the silence gets to Spike. Oz isn't at all surprised, but then again not much does surprise him.

"So what's next? I assume you and Red didn't work things out, you bein' in a cemetery and all."

Oz shrugs. "I don't know - hit the road, see the world again, run for president. They're all viable options."

"And you're just going to leave the witch here?" Spike asks.

"Not much I can do. It's what she wants."

The werewolf closes his eyes again, inhaling deep. The smoke from Spike's cigarettes melds with the stench of flowers.

Spike laughs, and it is full of loathing. "You can't let women have their way. You've gotta take, you've gotta make *your* way their way." The cigarette bud flies a short distance before it lands in the grass.

The ghost smile appears once again. "Uh-huh. So how's that Drucilla thing working out?"

A deep, dark growl fills his ears as he is pushed off the tombstone, followed by an agonizing scream as he remains on the ground. Rocks poke at his back, but that small pain feels good, almost cleansing in a very disturbing way.

"You shut your mouth, boy," Spike warns, clutching his head.

Slowly, Oz pushes himself up and looks at his companion. He sees the same pain and loneliness in the vampire's eyes that he himself feels. And Oz feels as if he has at last found a kindred spirit - someone hurting, someone who also contains an unwanted thing inside him.

"Sorry," he says.

Just like that, all the anger that molds Spike's face disappears, leaving a very wary blonde. The ghost smile grows a little, for it is obvious the vampire was expecting an insult or a put down. He is very much like a mistreated animal that is suddenly shown kindness.

"Yeah, well, it happens," Spike finally says, shifting uncomfortably.

Suddenly Oz wants to feel something else other than the wolf or the searing heartache; he is consumed by this raw need. Like the predator he doesn't want to be, Oz walks over to Spike, places his hand on the vampire's neck, and pulls the other man's head down.

When their lips first touch Spike freezes, and if it could have Oz's mouth would curve in a smile. But it is too busy trying to coax a response out of the still figure - something, anything - to match the inferno inside himself. And he succeeds.

Spike attacks Oz's lips with the desperation of a man too long denied food, devouring and claiming all while being claimed by the younger man. Tongues meet and fight, teeth click together, hands tighten and bruise.

"Maybe we should take this someplace a little less here," Oz says, or more accurately gasps, when they break a part.

The vampire says nothing. He stares hard into Oz's eyes for a moment, deciding if this was genuine or just another cosmic joke; if the offered hand is going to pet him or hurt him. Then he grabs the guitarist's wrist and leads him to the crypt.

The sound of the door shutting echoes through both their heads, sounding incredibly final when they aren't at all sure of their decision. Oz scans his surroundings, noting the chair, TV, and stone coffins.

"Dusty and morbid, but not without charm," he comments while turning to face his host. "Got any music?"

Spike stares at him once again, as if he has been asked why the universe had been created. Then he blinks.

"Music," he repeats. Nodding, the blonde walks over to a small radio hidden on a shelf and turns it on. The theme to "A Summer Place" fills the small room.

"All that's missing is the feathered boa," Oz muses.

That gets Spike's full attention, an odd phrase in a weird situation. "What are you talk-"

But Oz's mouth is there, capturing the words Spike was about to say. The werewolf isn't about to give either of them the chance to back out, not when he needs this so badly. To feel, to want, to do something that's about controlling being out of control.

And with this kiss, hidden by the thick stone walls, the hands are more active. They tear at clothing, pushing off jackets and tugging at shirts, pulling them off when breaks for air are taken. Shoes are toed off and socks are impatiently tugged off.

"You've really got a nail polish fetish, don't you?" Spike asks upon seeing Oz's black painted toenails.

The young man reaches out and grabs Spike's hand, smoothing his thumb over the chipped black nails. "I'm in good company."

Spike pauses, then smiles and uses that thumb to tug Oz to him, kissing him again. And with this kiss, the two are gentler, taking the time to explore each other. The hands pet, coasting along smooth muscle and skin. One hot, one cool, each marveling in the differences of the other.

Somehow they maneuver to one of the stone slabs, Spike pushed up against it. Breaking away from the kiss, Oz drops to his knees and unzips the black jeans, pulling them down and away. Spike's member stands proud, daring any and all willing to a challenge. It is a challenge Oz is more than willing to meet.

Taking the staff in his hand, Oz sets to work creating his own symphony to match the theme music and his instrument is Spike. Using his mouth and tongue, he raises all sorts of cries, growls, and moans, alternating suction and swift movements.

It isn't long before the vampire explodes, reaching ecstasy without the use of a net. Oz swallows all he is given before standing to face his partner.

They share a heavy, pregnant look in which the next part of their liaison is silently communicated. What was once a sin of pride and ego is now accepted by the immortal, for nothing done inside their house of the dead will ever be repeated outside. Spike turns, bends at the waist, and places his hands on the stone.

Oz first wets his fingers, sliding first one then another into the excruciatingly tight space, moving them back and forth until Spike is comfortable. He then spits into his hand and wets his own proud shaft, which is ready for a challenge of its own.

Several gentle yet forceful thrust later, Oz is buried in Spike and it feels glorious. It is so different from the abstinence of the past months and from the welcoming warmth of Willow. After a moment to absorb and remember, he begins to thrust again.

His hands and arms grasp at the vampire, in both a reassuring embrace and a dominant reminder. Spike doesn't mind much, for he is lost once again in the addictive haze of sex. As Oz thrusts harder the immortal rubs against the stone, until the friction is too much and he climaxes again with a strangled growl.

The climax causes muscles to clamp down, and the tightness is unbearable for both the wolf and the man. The two halves of Oz cum in a violent rush, spilling into Spike until nothing is left and Oz feels pleasantly empty.

When the moment is gone, they separate and begin to dress. The deed is done in silence, save the music from the radio. Once Oz has tied his shoes and zipped his jeans, he looks up at the strangely silent vampire.

"It stays here?" Spike asks, although he already knows the answer.

Oz nods. "It stays here."

And with that he leaves, walks out of the crypt and into the night, back to his van and uncertain future. Nothing more has to be said, because they each have what they wanted - Spike has had a connection with another and Oz has silence inside his head. It is over and gone, a moment of fantasy grasped for and tasted.

But maybe, just maybe, he will end up back in Sunnydale. Someday. And if he does, he'll bring a feathered boa and show Spike just what he was talking about.

**Author's Note:**

> This was in response to a challenge on a mailing list oh so long ago, hence the bizarre references.


End file.
